Blind Date Gone RightBlind Date Gone Right




God Jeanie is persistent. I can’t believe I let her convince me to even do this. I pulled up to the little Mexican style restaurant and sighed once more. I’ll never be comfortable telling her what I am… that I like to obey orders, to be spanked, whipped, choked, and subservient to my lovers… but in this moment I’m tempted. This is the fifth blind date Jeanie has set up for me in the last six weeks. How can I explain that no matter how nice a guy is, I’m just not going to be interested? The type of men I’m interested in don’t go on blind dates.

The restaurant was bright, with lots of bold colors and strong smelling foods. The hostess led me to a table near the back where the mood was a little different. It was quieter, smaller booths and dimmer lighting suggested that this area was for dates. I sat down across from him before even bothering to look at him. In my mind this was a hopeless evening. I thought I knew exactly how this would go, pleasantly boring conversation, I’d order a salad to show my dainty feminine ways, he would insist on paying, we’d go home and never speak to each other again.

Boy was I wrong.

As soon as I looked up into his face I could tell something was different about him. There was a sort of amused patience etched into his face. His strikingly handsome face and well fitted clothes I noticed only after I studied his expression. There was something remarkably familiar about the tight smile on his lips and the apprehension in his eyes. Then it struck me, I recognized my own expression in his. He was also dreading this date; as if he knew it would never work between us… there was no hope.

He spoke and broke me out of my moment of study, “George. You must be Adeline.”

“Yes,” I smiled, “Nice to meet you. How are you?”

“Just fine.”

… Already an awkward silence… not a good sign for having a pleasant evening…

I sigh a little preparing myself for a wholly unpleasant dinner. “How do you know Jeanie?”

He tilted his head to the side, as if not fully understanding the question, “I’m her cousin. Did she not tell you about me?”

I flush embarrassed. “She tried, but to be honest you’re the fifth blind date she’s set me up with recently, so I may have cut her off…”

He smiled slightly, “Jean can be persistent. She told me a lot about you. Let me tell you, you have the ideals of an angel to live up to.”

I chuckled, how like Jeanie. I took a breath to start speaking again, but he cut me off.

“Listen, you seem like a nice woman Adeline, but we just aren’t meant for each other.”

I blew out the air I had sucked in in a huff. What am I not pretty enough? He doesn’t even know me. The confusion and pain of rejection must have been clear on my face because he immediately tried to explain himself.

“It’s really not you. You seem genuinely very nice. It’s me. I have some very particular oddities that most women cannot stand even the thought of.” What on earth could he mean? He continued on, “but that’s no reason for us not to have a nice evening together and maybe even become friends for Jean’s sake.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What kind of oddities?” No point in beating around the bush.

He sat back in his seat and seemed a little surprised by my bluntness. He paused for a moment, considering whether or not to tell me something then just came right out and said it, “Sexual oddities.”

Just then the waiter appeared from behind my shoulder to take our drink orders. George must have seen the waiter coming and shared his bit of information just then on purpose. Maybe to give me time to process.

But the joke was on him. I was no stranger to “sexual oddities,” in fact “sexual oddities,” were some of my favorite pastimes. I decided to play dumb and see if I could figure out exactly what he was into.

I let my face brighten up, “Oooh denizli escort are you like the guy in 49 Shades of Silver?” pretending to be a fan girl of the most recent raunchy sex novel.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes in exasperation. I’m sure the inaccuracies and poor depiction of BDSM in that book drove him as mad as it drove me. I let a small smile creep across my lips while his eyes were closed, but hid it again as soon as he opened them.

“Yes and no, Adeline. Now, this is not information that I want shared with Jean…” he paused for my agreement to keep his secret.

I smiled excitedly, as if having found a hundred dollar bill, and nodded.

“Yes I am a dominant like the character in that book, but that character is a horrible representation of what my sexual lifestyle is truly about. I’m sure that you’re not interested in hearing about my sex life the first time we’re meeting over dinner, I just wanted to explain why I can’t pursue you. The kind of sex I have is very particular and not for everyone. So I am hoping we can just have a pleasant evening and part as friends.”

I was truly interested now. Not only is this blind date someone that Jeanie approved of, which meant that he was kind, compassionate, intelligent, and most likely a very good catch, he also was a sexual dominant.

Hmmm what to do… I didn’t want to come right out and say ‘Hey that’s convenient become I’m sexually submissive!’ But I did want him to view me as having potential.

I decided to play a little with him. As our conversation rolled on, we found that we actually had quite a bit in common. Jeanie actually got this set up pretty right. We genuinely laughed at each other’s jokes, found we watched the same TV shows and got along very well.

Throughout the night however, I kept dropping little hints to keep him thinking of him submissively. I dropped my gaze down to the table often, I leaned forward onto the table letting my hands rest in prayer position, when the waiter came to the table with our entrees he asked, “You ordered the grilled chicken right?” and I replied with a comical, “Yes Sir!” I noticed George’s eyes dart to my face then down as if embarrassed by a thought. I was a little loud, very talkative and most of all not submissive. And it worked out wonderfully. George was getting to know me, the daily vanilla side of me… and I got to know his daily vanilla side as well. I was having the best time I’d had in months.

As dinner was winding down the waiter came over and I instructed him to bring us separate checks. George of course protested but I explained, “If we are not really on a date then there is no reason for you to pay for me. To be honest it is a pet peeve of mine. Even if we were really on a date I don’t like the idea of a man having to pay for dinner anyway. I ate, just like you did and this is not the 1950’s where women didn’t work or didn’t make enough money working. I get paid quite enough to afford my own dinner.”

George’s face was thoughtful as he started to protest again, “Yes, however…” but I cut him off again.

“It’s a little sexist of me to assume that you should have to pay, and it’s a little sexist of you to assume that I can’t or don’t want to pay.”

His hands went up in defeat, “Fair enough. I’m glad Jean set us up, I really think we could be great friends.”

On our way out to the parking lot I knew this was my last chance to mention that not all hope was lost between us. “So you never asked me about mine.” I said.

He looked puzzled and asked, “Your what exactly?”

I grinned mischievously, “My sexual oddities. Doesn’t everyone have at least some?”

Surprise crossed his face, “Not many women would want to talk about sex on the first date.”

“We determined earlier that this isn’t a date,” I corrected him.

“Even so…” he trailed off.

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, “I only mentioned it because diyarbakır escort our sexual oddities actually work quite well together.”

We were nearing my car and he asked, “How do you mean?”

“Well,” I started, “I happen to enjoy being the submissive partner in relationships.”

He grabbed my shoulder and turned my back to my car, stepping close to me. “Don’t lie to me now. Do you have actual experience being submissive?” His face was just inches from mine and his eyes meant business.

My breath caught in my throat and I only just managed to squeak out, “yes…”

His eyes were heated and yet cold and hard. He asked in a very level and controlled voice, “Is that sort of relationship something you would be interested in trying with me?” His bluntness and close physical proximity was derailing my flirty and mischievous plan.

I could feel the heat of his body but he wasn’t quite touching me. I managed to whisper, “yes…” again. Quick as lightening he grabbed my wrist, firmly yet gently. He lowered his forehead until it almost was touching mine, his face… his lips not quite touching mine, “Yes, what?” he asked.

I grinned and murmured, “Yes Sir,” tipping my face up for a kiss.

Instead he took a step away from me, allowing me to realize that my whole body was leaning against the car. As I peeled my body away from the cold metal he instructed, “Put your leftovers in your car.”

I took a breath and squared my shoulders. The thrill of following orders hit me immediately as I unlocked my car and set my food on the passenger seat.

He closed the door and pulled me away from my car toward a bar across the street. As we stepped off the curb into the road he moved his hand to the small of my back. Instantly I felt a change come over me; I stood straighter, my hips swayed more, my shoulders were back and my head was held high. Amazing the change that one touch in the right place could have.

The bar was loud and full of kids barely old enough to be there… some may not have even been 21. This did not at all seem like his scene and it certainly wasn’t mine. We paused at the entrance as George scanned the room for seating. He lead me to the back corner of the bar where there was a tiny booth with only one side of seating and let me slide in.

“Do you like red wine?” he asked still standing.

I shook my head no and answered with, “Long Island Iced Tea is my drink.”

“No.” he said it so simply and confidently I didn’t question him. “White wine?” he asked.

“White wine is better than red,” I said.

He disappeared from the table making his way up to the bar. He didn’t slide in and around the crowd like I would have, rather as the college students saw him approaching they made way for him. It was mesmerizing and extremely sexy to watch him walk, students parting like the Red Sea around him.

I was watching the bar tender look for wine bottles (an odd thing to order at this particular bar) and chuckling when someone plopped down next to me. In the back corner of the bar it couldn’t have been by mistake. I glanced up at the clearly drunk frat boy and immediately backed as far away from him as I could in the booth.

“Hii tthere baby doll,” his speech was slurred and he was clearly trying to get lucky tonight judging by the way he spoke mainly to my breasts.

“Hi,” my immediate response and overwhelming need to be polite kicked in, “How are you?” When I didn’t get any sort of response beyond him staring at my breasts I asked, “Are you lost? Do you have friends here?”

“Friends!” he shouted raising the glass of beer in his hand, clearly calling out to someone and not answering my question. Faintly across the bar I heard a group of people respond with, “Forever!”

“I have the friends,” he said pointing over his shoulder. “They bet me,” twisting his hand to point at me, “that I couldn’t see your titties, but I,” he paused to take antalya escort a deep breath, “know I can.”

He breath stunk of sweet beer as he exhaled on me. I tried to back further into the tiny booth. “Sorry,” I said, “I’m afraid your friends are right.”

He reached over with a beer still in his hand, “No, see, if we just get this button out of here…” I grabbed at his hands to stop him just as I heard George’s reassuringly angry voice, “Hey!”

George’s voice made the frat boy jump and spill beer down my top. As soon as frat boy saw George he stood as upright as he could. “Sorry man, didn’t know this girl was claimed.” He saluted me in a very drunken way and started to retreat toward his friends. George grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and said in a calm and dangerously quiet voice that carried over the noise of the bar, “Don’t ever do that to a woman again. Do you understand me?”

The frat boy looked rightfully petrified and just nodded his head. George let him go gently and the boy practically ran away.

George turned to me and asked, “Are you alright?”

I took a breath; I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding it. I exhaled quickly, “Oh, him? He’s harmless, I’ve seen worse.” I frantically started wiping the beer off my top, my adrenaline rushing more that I knew logically was necessary.

George slid into the booth next to me and with one hand held both of mine still. His other hand went to my face and held my cheek. Waiting until I looked up from the table to make eye contact with him he asked, “Are you ok?”

I smiled weakly at him and nodded. He kissed my temple sweetly. “Okay.” He sounded reassured. “White wine,” he announced as he slid a glass over to me. His glass was full of red wine.

This was different than the restaurant. George was different. I was different. We talked openly about what our limits and experiences were. Occasionally I would scan the bar looking for anyone that I knew or that I would care if they overheard our conversation, but the crowd stayed young and indifferent to the couple sitting in the back corner.

George asked me many questions and my responses were often, “Yes Sir,” or “No Sir,” until he asked me to expand on something. His body language and mine made it very clear to both of us that this conversation was different. He faced me and leaned in, even in our little booth, enough to feel like he was casting a protective bubble around me. He had my complete and undivided attention. I sat back in the seat, my body feeling smaller and smaller the longer we talked.

When I ran out of wine and asked for another he responded again with his simple, “No.” The confusion and probably slight irritation on my face lead him to explain, “No for the same reason you couldn’t have hard liquor before. You are driving home. I will get you some water,” never asking me if I wanted water or not.

When he stood I felt the absence of his presence immensely. My body felt colder and exposed, like his protective bubble left with him. I crossed my arms over my chest and instead of watching him walk to the bar again my eyes scanned the crowd, hoping that no one would notice me and try to sit down.

He returned with my water and I felt the enormity of his body protecting me again. We talked for over an hour and decided that I would meet him on Saturday at his house for some kinky fun and our second date.

When I pulled out my purse to settle my tab he frowned at me. “I’ll have none of your silly feminism ranting now.”

“But I…” I started. He stopped me by simply raising his hand.

“I know that you are perfectly capable and willing to pay for yourself, and I respect that,” he paused, “put your money away. When we go out I am going to pay for things. You will not feel guilty about spending as much as you want and you will not ask to pay again.”

I pursed my lips, really wanting to protest but not wanting to push him before we even had a steady set of rules established. He saw the consternation on my face and said simply, “I want to. I like to be a gentleman… even if that’s a little sexist.”

That got me to grin and nod. I mean what is a Dom/sub relationship if not a little sexist?



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